Author Archives: S. N. Martin

A Lesson in Futility

Posted on by

Five years ago, I began a journey towards becoming a counselor, which is still a work in progress. On that journey, God has provided many opportunities both professionally and personally to enter into relationships with people who are focused on their immediate desires or pleasure and convinced that their futures will be fine. It never ceases to amaze me how people surrounded by concrete examples of the end result of similar choices to their own can be thoroughly convinced that they themselves are the exception to the rule. Every narrow miss serves not as a dose of reality and a chance to change course but instead as another slipshod evidence that they are invincible–no amount of reason, or logic, or moral appeal can convince them otherwise. It is infuriating.

These are exactly the kind of people that I spent most of my life avoiding, trying not to get close enough to need to know them, or love them. Why? Because I thought it would hurt…a lot. As it turns out, it does. Ironically, these are exactly the sort of people one winds up spending a lot of time getting involved with as a counselor. Well, I suppose that is not ironic in itself. What is ironic is that I somehow did not realize this when I began to pursue counseling. When I first felt the Holy Spirit tugging on my heart toward certain acquaintances, I resisted. Fervently. “Pursue that person,” He would whisper to my heart. “I’ll smile, and be nice, and make friendly small talk. That’s good enough,” my heart would say. “Love that person,” He would say. “I’m listening to their problems and not making any judgmental comments. I’m giving them little trinkets and cheering up their day. Isn’t that good enough?” my heart would answer. “Is that how I love you?” He finally asked. Hmm.

And so began the struggle. God keeps putting broken people in my life to love, and I keep trying to love them. At first, I tried confronting their self-destructive choices. Then, I tried ignoring their choices and just listening to their struggles. Then, I tried sharing my own struggles and choices as some sort of inspirational role model. At some point, I gave up on strategy and just started having honest conversations with people, letting the Holy Spirit lead–sometimes taking the lead myself, and then having to enlist His help to fix the resulting mess. What are the results? Well, I have had more conversations about the gospel in the past several years than probably the rest of my life combined–especially with unbelievers. I have become truly amazed about how God loved me as an unrepentant sinner, and how He continues to love me as His child who still chooses to sin. I had little appreciation for how hard that is, or how much it costs before I started trying to do it myself–and, obviously, it costs me not even a fraction of what it cost Him. My heart’s capacity for love and forgiveness and humility has grown, and shrunk up when wounded, and then expanded again. But you know what? So far, not one, single person from this journey has changed his or her path. Honestly. I mean, I have put in tears, and prayers, and hugs, and hours upon hours of listening, and money and time, and…all sorts of stuff, and they still haven’t changed! What’s more, most of them haven’t even kept in touch. They say all these things about what a great friend or counselor I am, etc., etc., and then they just wander out of my life.

“Seriously, God?!” I have demanded on more than one occasion. “What the heck was the point of all that? I have been carrying this person on my heart and mind, bench pressing them on a daily basis, for months. And–nothing? Seriously?! I thought I was supposed to model Your love to them. I thought I was supposed to be a living testimony of the gospel. I thought You put them on my heart because You wanted to save them. I thought You wanted to use me to save them.” Okay, at some point in the process with each relationship, I get a little mixed up and think that I am the one whose love has the power to change their hearts and heal their brokenness, which I admit is a little delusional. But, when the Holy Spirit points that out to me–again, I confess it. I just kind of hoped that by now I would have seen God work through me with some sort of visible result.

Counseling–whether in the office or in friendships–can often feel like a monumental and exhausting effort of futility. It feels like I spend a lot of time reaching out to catch people and watching them slip through my fingers. Over, and over, and over. It is frustrating because I feel powerless to prevent their downfall. This is particularly heartbreaking when the person slipping through my fingers is a mere youth, making choices with consequences well beyond his or her years. I don’t pull any punches. I tell them that I love them unconditionally, whatever choices they make, but I don’t sugar coat the choices they are making or the consequences they will eventually incur. I shoot straight from the hip, but I also express hope for them, and a belief that there is another path for them to choose. Most of the time, I think they just see me as this friendly ally who still believes in right and wrong (Isn’t that cute?). “Gee, I must be pretty special because she takes so much time on me.” And   s   l   i   p, there they go: right through my fingers. Sigh. I don’t fee like I’m doing them any actual good.

“Why don’t you feel like you’re doing them any good?” God asks me. “Because, they’re still falling. I can’t catch them. And I can’t convince them to be caught instead of continuing to fall. I’m just grasping at them on the way down, and missing every time,” I answer.

“And you don’t think that’s helping?” God pursues.                           “How is that helping?” I finally ask. “They’re still choosing to plummet.”

“True, but they can feel your fingers on the way down,” God answers. I can tell this is going to be one of those object lessons that He gives me by providing an analogy that I didn’t come up with myself, but I’m still doubtful. “Okay…so they can feel my touch on the way down. How is that helping in any significant way?”

For the sake of length, I’ll skip the dialogue and summarize. Here’s what God taught me tonight: I cannot control whether someone chooses to fall or not. I cannot catch them if they don’t want to be caught. That is not my role. However, that does not mean that God is not using me. How is reaching out and having someone slip through my fingers still helpful to them?

1. Sometimes, when you are in free fall, you forget that you are falling. Brushing against my hand on the way down may serve to remind them that they are falling, and that is an important realization. 2. A human touch is sometimes needed to remind us that we are human and that we are connected to the people around us. Maybe being grasped at and slipping through my fingers will remind someone that they are human or that their fate matters to someone besides themselves. 3. Maybe the offered hand that they reject will remind them that there is another choice available to them besides the path they are currently on, and will help them to realize that they are making a choice to keep falling–and that could be the first step toward making a different choice. 4. If I continue to take the opportunities God provides me to reach out to them, not excusing or ignoring their bad choices and telling them that I love them in spite of their choices, they may have an easier time understanding that God does not ignore or excuse our sin, but loves us in spite of our sin–so much so that He offers to take the penalty of our sin upon Himself and give us a new life.

I can’t stop my friends or my clients from falling. I can’t make the choice for them. I can’t give them a new heart or the gift of repentance. That is not my role. I cannot follow them on their way down, or after they walk away. I probably will not be there when they hit rock bottom. That is not my job, and I have to accept that. God, on the other hand, will be there when they hit rock bottom. He will be there all the way down, as far as they go. He can give them the gift of repentance, and a new heart. That is His role. I need to let God perform His role and be content to perform mine. I believe that there is a reason He places me in the path of those I come in contact with, and I trust that His purpose will be fulfilled even if I am not there to see it. I hope that as I lean on God and do my best to fumblingly exhibit His love, He will plant seeds that will bear fruit later on. Reaching out to someone who slips through my fingers is not futile. It just isn’t my fingers that will finally lift them up.

What’s a Girl to Do with Happily Ever After?

Posted on by

“Happily Ever After”

The phrase permeates our culture, our narratives, our dreams, and our hopes. The concept either tantalizes or haunts us. This is especially true among the ranks of single women, where “happily ever after” seems to conjure one of two, very strong, emotional reactions:

1. Dogmatic hope and optimism, or

2. Bitter cynicism and disillusionment.

Those women who fall into the first category tend to consume romantic comedies like carbs, invest in online dating websites, write letters to their future husbands who have yet to materialize, and dvr every bridal show on TLC so they can draw up the blueprint for their own perfect weddings. Those who fall into the latter category tend to wear black on Valentine’s Day, listen to angry chick rock, hang dart boards with photos of exes on them, and avoid bridal showers like the plague. Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but the fairy-tale ending elicits exaggerated emotional reactions from single women fairly regularly–reactions which I sometimes find nauseating, even as a fellow single. To be fair, though, I can’t really blame them for having these reactions. I mean, the script of finding your identity, happiness, purpose, and general life fulfillment by finding the right guy to fall in love with is practically crammed down our throats at every turn: music, movies upon movies, novels, tv shows, advertisements–need I go on? “All you need is love! Do, do, do ,do , do…” Which is great, if you have found your one, true love. Otherwise, it sort of leaves you hanging without what you need. So, you either spend your energy chasing that need, or you’ve wised up to the fact that the script is a hoax and you spend your energy trying to surgically remove that need–much trickier than it sounds. I sometimes picture two groups of protesters: one group is dressed to the nines, carrying glitter-laden posters that say “Someday my prince will come!” The other group is wearing jeans and sweats and holding signs that say, “There is no Prince Charming! Wake up and get over it!”

Personally, I don’t really want to fit in with either group–although on my really tough days, I probably oscillate between visiting one or the other or both. Still, I’m pretty sure they’re both unhealthy worldviews.

Lately, I have gotten curious about something. I’ve wondered–after years of being weaned, teethed, and fed on “happily ever after”–what happens to the longing for a fairy-tale ending after one has secured a prince (however charming) and finished the frosted, ruffled, wedding day? So, I polled some of my married friends to find out whether they still longed for the perfect ending. And if so, what does it look like post-nuptials? Here’s what I found out: One can be married to a great, charming, prince of a guy who loves the Lord and his family, and still find oneself longing for a happily ever after. Most of my friends are happily married, and in that sense feel they are already living their fairy tale. But that doesn’t mean they don’t still find themselves in low moments of feeling like life is hard and overwhelming, or messy and exhausting. My single friends and I in those moments are always tempted to think, “If I just had a life partner to tackle this with and support me, and give me a shoulder to cry on, this would be bearable.” My married friends think, “If I just had a better job; if my husband had a better job so I didn’t have to work; if we could just get pregnant; if the kids were just potty-trained; if we could just buy a house; if we could just get a bigger house for our growing family; if I just had a remodeled kitchen; if the appliances just worked properly; if I just had a maid; if I could just lose my pregnancy weight….then life would be settled and manageable and I could really enjoy it.” I haven’t pursued this research further, but I suspect that married women may at times divide into two camps of optimists and cynics as well.

There’s one essential problem with the fairy-tale ending of happily ever after: the fairy tale actually ends almost immediately with the musical swell, the camera panning from the wedding reception to the stars overhead, and the fade to credits. In other words, the fairy tale just ends “happily,” whereas real life includes the “ever after” part. With very few, refreshing exceptions, the romantic fairy-tale movies do not show Cinderella and Prince searching for apartments, or Snow White and Charming tackling an economic depression in the kingdom, or Sleeping Beauty cleaning up the diaper poo that Junior has just slung all over his royal bedchamber. I think all of the married women I interviewed would say that life is better with a partner, and that they can’t imagine their lives without their husband. But, I think they would also all say that life is still life, even when you’re married. And because it’s still life in a fallen, broken world, and the prince and the princess are still fallen, broken people–it is not exactly the picture of ease, bliss, and perfection portrayed in the movies that we long for.

So, what’s a gal to do? Is it all just a culture-induced delusion?

I don’t think so. As C.S. Lewis once postulated, the only logical explanation for a deep, universal, inherent longing for something is that it does exist. And the only reasonable conclusion for such a longing that cannot be satisfied here in this life is that we were not meant to be fulfilled completely in this life. (I’m paraphrasing.)

So here’s the position I’ve come to on this very sticky topic: I am not giving up on happily every after. But, I’m also not looking for it anymore. I don’t need to, because I’ve already found it. I just haven’t taken possession of it yet. There will never be a point in my life on earth where everything works together perfectly, where all my needs are met perfectly, all my fears are abated, and all my hopes are come true. I will never be able to fully rest in this life, with the knowledge that all is as it should be and will remain that way. Not if I marry, not if I have children, not if I win the lottery, not if I become a best-selling authoress. I will never arrive at some plateau where all of my relationships, works, and environments are in perfect harmony. It doesn’t exist.

Not here. However, I do look forward to a day when all those things are true, and much, much more. There will be a day when all my needs are met, all my flaws turned beautiful, all my desires and longings fulfilled, all my hurts and fears erased, all my joys magnified, and everything in myself, my life, and my environment will work together in perfect harmony. In fact, it is promised to me. The One who promises it is eternal, unchanging, faithful, and He purchased that promise with His own precious blood. The best promise of all for that day is that I will be fully united with Him and see Him face to face–without my sin, or brokenness, or frailty getting in the way.

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth….And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be His people, and God Himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”  Revelation 21:1-4

No longer will there be anything accursed, but the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and His servants will worship Him. They will see His face, and His name will be on their foreheads. And night will be no more. They will need no lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever.” Revelation 22:3-5

Seriously? What fairy tale can compete with that? It’s okay to long for happily ever after. We’re supposed to. Life is not as it is supposed to be. The world is not as it is supposed to be. We are not as we are supposed to be. But, God knows that. He loved us anyway, and created a happy ending to undo all the pain of the story here. He sent His only Son to die in our place, and take the penalty of our sin and brokenness, so that we could live with Him in perfection and beauty. No Prince Charming can compete with Him. No house or remodel can compare with the beauty of heaven. Nothing we could possibly find, create, discover, build, buy, or accomplish here will ever even come close. So, here’s the great news of relief: We can stop trying to create happily ever after! God has already created, accomplished, secured, and granted it to those who place their trust in Him and realize that they don’t deserve it. We are now free to embrace the life that God has placed before us, and love the people that God has placed before us–in all their weakness, brokenness, and beauty, just as they are. We can work to make the world better by making His grace and love known, all the while knowing that the happy ending is not dependent (praise the Lord!) on us. We can be content right now–dare I suggest maybe even happy?–knowing that this is not our “ever after.”

I’ve resolved to stop expecting to arrive at some point or accomplishment or milestone where life will get easy. It won’t. But, I already have my happily ever after secured for eternity in Christ. So, I’m free to embrace my life and world as they are now–messy, incomplete, imperfect, full of longing, stress, and uncertainty. I already know this is not my happy ending. This is just my journey to get there.

When Knocking on a Door becomes Banging Your Head Against a Wall

Posted on by

Adventures in Dogsitting 026

Remember those unexpected destinations and u-turns I mentioned in my inaugural entry? Well, I’m in the midst of another one: a u-turn this time. Or at least, that’s what it feels like. A new position in my dream job failing to materialize, I now find myself returning to my previous dream job (the one I have spent 5 years working hard to stay out of). I actually interviewed for a full-time position in this former dream job that I loved but which did not allow me to love anything else because it consumed my life. I did not get the full-time position. I got a temporary, fill-in position, with no salary or benefits for the same amount of work. *sigh* So, I get to lose all of my free time and head space and for about 1/4 of what I would get paid full-time. I feel like an American colonist ready to start a revolution: “No consumption without compensation!”

Why on earth did I take this job? That’s a very good question. I have been asking myself that question since I heard the words “I’ll take it” come out of my mouth.

You know that cute, comforting, little cliche’ phrase that people always bandy about when the ground has just suddenly given way before you, and you find yourself standing on the edge of an immense precipice with the wind threatening to pull you off into the void? “When God closes one door, He always opens another.” It always seems to be accompanied by a cheerful smile, or a gentle arm squeeze. Or, when it’s an especially hard situation or people can tell you’re on the brink of a breakdown, the creative ones will switch out a door for a window. I know they are trying to be helpful and encouraging. I genuinely feel bad for how awkward they must feel at my deer-in-headlights response of just staring and blinking. I do. But, in those moments, the thought that is usually going through my head is something like this: “Door? What door? I’m standing on the edge of an immense cliff, peering into an abyss. I’m not even looking for doors right now. I would give anything for the security of a hallway with nothing more threatening than a closed-door behind me. I’m just feeling dizzy and hoping to God I don’t fall to my doom.” (Confession: my inner dialogue is a lot more dramatic than my exterior presentation.)

Adding to the dizziness is the continual barrage of two schools of advice: 1. Wait patiently and peacefully for God to present you with another door  (or a window). 2. Keep knocking on that door until it opens; believe in your vision; fight for what you believe to be your calling; find the window next to the door and claw your way in. There is wisdom to both of these approaches. There are times when each of these responses is appropriate. But, here’s the catch: how do you know which time you’re in? Is it a time for humble submission and trust? Is it a time for bold faith and determination? How do you know when God is testing you or strengthening your resolve, and when He is blocking the path you had planned because He has another purpose for you (especially when no other purpose readily presents itself)? These are deep questions that require a lot more than a motto or a catchphrase to answer. There are examples of each season in Scripture. Joshua and Caleb persisted in believing God’s promise to deliver Canaan to them in spite of the other 10 spies who were terrified and the skepticism of the people. Joshua also led the Israelites around Jericho for seven days straight before the walls fell. Moses persisted with pressuring Pharaoh to release the Israelites for ten, successive plagues. Paul persisted in preaching the gospel to Gentiles through beatings, stoning, imprisonment, shipwreck, and any number of other circumstances that would probably cause most of us to wonder whether we were really in the center of God’s will. Abraham and Sarah had to wait patiently for about 25 years (if my calculations are correct) from the time God first promised offspring to them in Genesis 12:7 to the time Isaac was finally born. I have a feeling their knuckles were getting pretty raw from knocking on that door when they decided to take things into their own hands and try to make a window–the results of which were pretty devastating. Of course, all of those people also had a direct, audible direction/promise from God, which is not something of which I have been the beneficiary. On the other hand, there are also plenty of examples in Scripture where God changed the course His people were on, or asked them to just sit and wait for extended lengths of time.

In my own experience, God does not usually open one door after closing another. I know plenty of friends whose lives seem to work that way. Some of them actually seem to live in a game show, with multiple open doors to choose from which all promise to conceal wonderful prizes. “Okay, Johnny, show her what’s behind door number 2!” Cue the confetti. I am thinking back over the major, unexpected transitions of my life, and I can’t really remember a single time I would describe like that. My journey usually resembles something more like a shrinking hallway with many locked doors that closes in on me until I am huddled in a corner on the floor and discover a mouse-hole which I then have to squeeze through. That’s how I wound up moving in with family a few years ago. That’s how I ended up pursuing my masters. And that’s how I found myself accepting this job a few days ago. This is not to imply that those transitions have not eventually been filled with blessing and good and joy, as mentioned in previous posts. But, they are never an obvious, welcome transition that I would have chosen voluntarily barring the shrinking hallway.

So, how do you know when you are knocking on a door in faith, and when that door has turned into a wall which you are banging your head against? How do you maintain sanity when it feels like you have wasted exorbitant amounts of time, money, and energy on a door that just will not open. It is easy to be overwhelmed with fears that you have misunderstood God’s calling on your life, that you have missed out on God’s calling while you were knocking on the wrong door, that there is no door for you and you are a waste of space in the kingdom. The list goes on. Maybe you were supposed to just be peacefully resting in a zen-like “be still” moment, and you killed it with all your knocking. Maybe you should have spent less time peacefully resting in God’s presence when He really wanted you to be knocking harder, and the door is gone now. It would be much easier if God appeared in a blinding light and struck you blind while giving a clear, direct command; or appeared in a burning bush; or spoke to you directly and audibly from heaven. But, in my experience, that doesn’t happen very often; instead I find myself in a moment of loss and confusion.

I am in one of those moments now, as I consider whether or not the door I have been pounding for several years is really a wall, and I find myself walking back through a door I had no intention of ever entering again and plan to exit through as soon as possible. At times like these, I am incredibly thankful for the following truths God has impressed on me in the last few years:

1. Ultimately, I have one (ONE) calling: to receive the love of my heavenly Father, Creator, and Savior, and to share it with others. Period. God may have different purposes for different seasons of my life, but my true calling is immutable and able to be fulfilled in any circumstance. The catechism answer I learned as a child puts it this way, “Man’s chief end is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.” Also, it’s success does not depend on me, but on God who initiated the covenant with me. (Mark 12:28-31)

2. God doesn’t do backwards. He does not waste time or experiences. He is sovereign over closed doors, walls, mouse-holes, u-turns, and dead ends. And, from His perspective, they are all moving me directly forward toward His will for my life. He is with me on every step of the journey, even the pit stops, and He is never thwarted from accomplishing His purpose to fill me with His love and conform me to His likeness. He will use everything to bring me into deeper communion with Him. (Romans 8:28-30)

3. I know where the journey ends, and it is not here. I may not know how it will end, or when. It may involve falling off a precipice, or rotting away in a hallway, or finding an unexpected door. But, no matter how many u-turns, mouse-holes, and dead ends I have to face, I know that my calling will be fulfilled: I will see my Savior face to face, and know Him even as I am known by Him, and will be like Him–I will resemble my beautiful, perfect, glorious God and reflect Him perfectly when that day comes. (I John 3:2-3)

If you are facing a dead-end, a brick wall, an insurmountable parapet, an unwelcome door, or a highly uncomfortable mouse-hole, rest assured: it is not a setback. It is a step forward in your relationship with your heavenly Father, an opportunity to draw tighter to His side, and an important milestone in being shaped into the person He created you to be. Whether you decide to continue banging on that stubborn door or to find a peaceful corner to sit and wait, you can be sure you are not wasting time if you are making that decision with God and sharing the experience with Him. Oh, and it’s okay to collapse in the corner and have a good cry; just let Him hold you while you do.

Broken Legs: Forced Lessons of Dependence on God

Posted on by

Luke 15:5 “And when he has found [the lost sheep], he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing.”

I can’t remember when I first heard about the supposed tradition of shepherds in the Middle East in dealing with a wayward sheep which continually wanders away from the flock on its own. The story goes that, if a sheep persists in leaving the shepherd’s protection and attempting to be self-reliant, the shepherd will find the sheep, break one of its legs so that it can no longer wander off, and then bandage it. Then, as the leg is healing, the shepherd carries the sheep on his shoulders until it learns total dependence and trust in him. By the time it has healed, the sheep becomes so dependent on the shepherd and so close to him that it no longer wanders off.

I do remember always seeing this story  as a very poignant one showing that God uses our brokenness. It reminds me of another verse I love, Job 5:17-18: “Behold, blessed is the one whom God reproves; therefore, despise not the discipline of the Almighty. For He wounds, but He binds up; He shatters, but His hands heal.” I think my meditations on the broken sheep previously only extended to reflecting on how gentle and sweet it must be to be carried and how loved the sheep must feel so close to the shepherd’s heart. When I came across Luke 15:5 in my devotions a few years ago, I again had this idyllic, pastoral picture in mind.

In recent years, however, I have begun to realize that the process of being broken and forced into dependence is not actually a romantic or nostalgic experience. Because of my own uncertain circumstances in life for the past several years, I have been forced to realize how incapable I am of controlling the factors necessary to provide for myself—health insurance, gainful employment, reliable income, etc. I have also realized that even what I do have—my health, my possessions, a functioning car, etc.—I have no control to keep. Everything I tend to find security in is completely vulnerable to breaking down due to circumstances beyond my control. I used to think I recognized my dependence on God’s provision and was grateful for my blessings, but these past years have shown me that I really had no clue how dependent on God I really am or how much I trusted in circumstances rather than Him. So, I have been meditating a lot on the wandering sheep with the broken leg with some new insight.

Here’s what I have discovered: Having your leg broken and then being carried is not a very pleasant experience. Broken bones hurt! And, honestly, the shepherd is the last person a sheep would expect to inflict injury. (This sheep’s initial reaction to having her leg broken is distrust, betrayal, and confusion, not deeper intimacy with the Shepherd.) Then, to add insult to injury, the wounded sheep must be carried around by the person who just inflicted pain and injury. It cannot flee its attacker because it can’t walk. The shepherd, of course, provides for the sheep during the healing process—tending the wound, bringing it food and water, protecting it from predators. However, it must take some time for the sheep to realize that the shepherd has its best interests at heart and is trustworthy. (This sheep tends to spend a certain amount of time cringing, anticipating another blow or injury, after a forced reminder of dependence; although, by God’s grace and with repeated practice, I don’t stay cringed as long as I used to.)

Even once the sheep realizes that the shepherd is not angry but demonstrating love, it must still be uncomfortable to be atop the shepherd’s shoulders. It can’t just graze when it’s hungry anymore. It has to wait for the shepherd to stop the herd and put it down. Meanwhile, it gets to watch all its fellow flock enjoy snacks as often as they choose, as they walk along. This might be stretching the cognitive powers of sheep a bit, but I imagine the broken sheep feels somewhat isolated from the flock, unable to commune on the same level. It may even feel embarrassed by public spectacle as its brokenness is on display on the shepherd’s shoulder—for all the world to see. Maybe it wonders if the rest of the flock pities it, despises it for its helplessness, or just tolerates it. Even when it has regained its trust in the shepherd, the sheep must wonder if it will ever be able to walk on its own again without pain. Will it ever be able to function as a normal, contributing member of the flock again? Will it ever be able to prove to the shepherd that it has learned its lesson and desires to be faithful by not running away again? Does it feel guilty that it is burdening the shepherd and taking his time and attention? It must feel useless, helpless, and pathetic; not to mention uneasy, sore, and apprehensive about the future.

In the midst of all this tumult of emotion and confusion, however, the sheep is close enough to hear the shepherd’s heartbeat. It constantly feels his shoulders and arms bearing it up. And, for the first time, it is able to see the world from the shepherd’s perspective rather than from the ground. Perhaps it is able to see some of the dangerous cliffs or other hazards that make it dangerous to wander off. Perhaps it sees where the shepherd is leading the flock. Perhaps it realizes how much smaller the sheep are than the shepherd. And all the while, according to Luke 15:5, the shepherd is “rejoicing” over the sheep on his shoulders, not resenting the burden or begrudging the necessity. The shepherd doesn’t just take care of the sheep; He cares for the sheep as well.

After almost five years of practice now living in forced dependence on God, I am overjoyed to report that it is possible to function as a member of the flock—even while my legs are broken, and while I’m begin carried. In fact, one of the greatest treasures I have found in this timBrandywine Creek State Park 018e is the gift of community with the body of Christ. As I have learned to lean on and be vulnerable with my Shepherd, even when it hurts, I have also learned to be vulnerable with my flock. And I have often felt His arms bearing me up through my church community. I have been richly blessed with brothers and sisters in Christ who do not despise, tolerate, or even pity me; instead, as I have been brave enough to show them my broken legs, they have responded by actually valuing me—finding strengths and gifts I didn’t think I had, and drawing them out for the strength of the body. They have encouraged me, enjoyed me, prayed with me, cried with me, and perhaps the most life-giving thing of all—they have believed rock-solidly in God’s perfect love and plan for me, especially when I can’t muster the strength to believe it for myself. This is a priceless treasure, worth more than any job, or paycheck, or 5-year-plan. Jesus has been faithful to His promises in Psalm 23 to make me lie down in green pastures, to lead me by still waters, and to restore my soul–even while He’s carrying me.

I am also happy to report, that I have come to know Jesus and to fellowship with Him on levels of intimacy I never would have imagined possible before, or known I was missing. I have begun to explore the depths of His heart for lost sheep, the reality of His suffering on every human level while on earth, and His passion to be my partner through every trial I face. I am slowly learning how to let Him love me. I would like to say that I have become the perfectly reformed sheep—who never wanders off or loses focus on the Shepherd, who always feels her Savior’s presence close by her side, who no longer cringes when some fragment of independence is snatched out from under her again. Unfortunately, I am still a sheep. Even when I think I’ve learned to walk in reliance on God and fully trust His plan, some new upset throws me into panic again, despite the fact that I know He’s carrying me. But…that’s okay because even when I’m scared, frustrated, skeptical, or apathetic, He’s still carrying me. The relationship between the sheep and the shepherd does not depend upon the sheep (praise God!), it depends on the faithfulness of the Shepherd. And I know that His love for me and His commitment to His promises never falter even a fraction. If I quiet myself in the midst of the circumstances, I can still feel His arms bearing me up and hear His heartbeat—close, close, close. And eventually, if my five-year-plan ever does work out, I’ll have a better appreciation of the fact that, in reality, I’m still being carried.

Is this going to hurt?

Posted on by

The thought of publishing something on the internet for the whole wide world to see is…in a word: terrifying–especially since I am fairly archaic when it comes to technology. I do not own a smartphone. Yes, I know that makes me rebellious. I did not own a cell phone at all until I was about 24 and everyone else in my life owned one, and that was only to stay in touch with relatives as I drove cross-country. I didn’t get a facebook page until 2008, and that was only to stay in touch with former students when I left my school. I text in complete sentences–with punctuation. :} My approach to the digital world somewhat resembles a child cringing and holding out her hand to have a splinter removed. Will it hurt? I’m wincing, but I’m still peeking. I don’t even know what 90% of the links and icons on the side of the webpage right now are for.

Several friends have suggested I start a blog. I am a writer. It is how I process the world. However, my writing normally takes the form of pen and journal, laptop and novel, facebook posts limited by privacy settings, etc. As incurably transparent as I am in person, the thought of publishing myself with no control over the audience makes me feel very exposed. And I am decidedly not an exhibitionist.

At this point, most of you are probably assuming I am more spinster than youthful. Depending on your reference point for marriageable age, I suppose, you might be right–especially if you live south of the Mason Dixon line. But, truthfully, I am just very resistant to change, particularly to the routines and landscapes in my life. Which is actually what brings me to the concept of this blog (despite my fear).

For as long as I can remember, my primary ambition in life has centered around being settled: planting roots, firmly; finding a place to belong to and fit into a role; making a cozy home; achieving financial and vocational security; finding a spouse to be a permanent companion. Security. Predictability. Familiarity. Reliability. Stability. These are the cornerstones of my dreams. (Okay, so my dream house has a lot of corners. What are you, an architect?) Mysteriously, just about every one of those cornerstones has either eluded me altogether or has been roughly uprooted from whatever ground I have managed to plant it in. Over, and over, and over again. Every, single one. Meanwhile, I have watched countless friends and acquaintances (most ironically, my thrill-seeking, wanderlust-stricken brother) acquire these things–some finding them effortlessly, some stumbling into them unexpectedly, some even getting pulled into them reluctantly. And here sit I. Somehow my adventurous, restless younger brother has landed himself into a career, marriage, and home ownership while I continue to find my carefully planted roots forcibly replanted at every turn. My possessions in storage, living in someone else’s home, searching for a job in my field without luck for three years after graduate school, as single as a one dollar bill, in and out of health insurance, and having depleted my accumulated savings multiple times.

The last five years of my life, in particular, have been fraught with instability, unpredictability, disappointment, upheaval, and confusion. All the paths I carefully planned as a youngster, a college coed, a graduate, a teacher, a graduate student–none of them have gone according to plan. I’ve had a lot of breakdowns, tantrums, panic attacks, depressions, tv binges, puffy eyelids, and neck cramps in the last five years. I have never winced or cringed so hard in my life. But, then, much to my surprise–despite my best efforts to force God’s hand into rescuing me from my distress by following my wishes–I have also found love, peace, growth, beauty, intimacy, freedom, clarity, community, identity, purpose, and faith. Of course, the two sides of the coin seem to flip with some regularity, but slowly, the negative side seems to linger less. At any rate, I’ve done a LOT of journaling and writing over this time period. I would like to remember the lessons I have learned over this period, and to help anyone else facing similar circumstances to know they are not losing their mind (at least not permanently). Most importantly, I would like to continue to see God at work in my unexpected destinations and pit stops (and u-turns), and to praise Him for His faithfulness to answer the deepest longings of my heart while denying most of the superficial ones. So, I am starting a blog. I expect it will be full of unexpected turns, too, but also, hopefully, unexpected rewards. Hopefully, you will be blessed by what you hear here. (This is your cue to pipe in with the cheer resembling that pair of homonyms.)

DISCLAIMER: Singleness has been one of the largest circumstances that has seemed like a dead end, and was the catalyst for the journey I have been on for the last 5 years. But, it is by no means the only struggle, or even the most challenging one. So, while I have titled my blog after my singleness, this will not be a blog about singleness, as such. I intend for it to be a blog about disappointment, discovery, and dependence on God.

Okay, I am staring at that little, blue box that says “Publish” and thinking this was a really bad idea….

….Oh well.